


Standing on the Borderline

by Thinking_Way_Back



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thinking_Way_Back/pseuds/Thinking_Way_Back
Summary: A nightmarish reality in which Thomas Sanders has gotten into a car accident and is gravely injured, detailing his experiences in the hospital (with his friends and the Sides constantly there for him) paralleled by flashbacks with an ending that might just break your heart.
Kudos: 11





	Standing on the Borderline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elana and Samara](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Elana+and+Samara).



> Greetings, gentle reader, and thank you for stopping by!
> 
> If you've read the summary, you know that a painful tale lies ahead of you: one that, if you are a fander, will make you cry...especially if you, like me, get easily emotional at the thought of anything at all bad happening to this angel of a man. You have been warned, my friends, but I really wanted to apologize to you in advance for even writing this...I simply couldn't keep this turmoil of emotions inside of me. I hope you get through it without too much anger at me for putting this into words—

**_The moment the car hit the trees, I thought I was dead. Then I kept waking and waking. I liked to be unconscious rather than awake. Because when I was awake I could taste the coppery blood pooling in my mouth. I could feel it grazing my teeth and soaking my tongue. I felt the aching and cracks in my bones. Each crack felt like rocks were burrowing into my skin. I sucked in cramped air, feeling my lungs caving in on themselves. I saw the spots in the corners of my vision, making my head feel like the only thing inside of it was static. I heard a buzzing noise, filling my ears. I felt like I was there for hours, fading and waking and fading and waking. My agony was the only thing keeping me alive. It was the only thing I could feel anymore. That's when everything went black._ **

Thomas shakily opened his eyes from yet another grotesque nightmare. He winced at the infernal throbbing headache that mercilessly returned hour after hour. He bit his lip until the metallic taste of blood again coated his tongue, trying in vain to block out the incessant screaming that filled his mind. Thomas wondered, as he had on a countless number of occasions before this, to whom those piercing cries belonged and why in God’s name he couldn’t stop hearing the harsh screeching of tires and envisioning the ghastly sight of twisted metal and broken glass.

Struggling to focus the honey-speckled, warm, brown eyes that had not long ago shone with loving joy—now replaced with dull anguish—Thomas perceived that surrounding him, as they had been for days now, were faces he knew better than his own, faces whose cheeks used to lift in a Duchenne smile that matched his own, faces whose cheeks were now constantly stained with tears. Why were they crying every time he awakened? He was okay; in a bit of pain, sure, but nothing to worry about...right? At least, that’s what the doctor kept telling him in a cheery voice before hurriedly leaving his room to converse in hushed tones with his brothers and Joan.

It was Joan who was the first to speak, as per usual. “H-hey, Thomas, how’re ya feelin'?”

Their smile didn’t quite meet their eyes, which was _un_ usual, to say the least.

Thomas cleared his desiccated throat and ventured, as was his nature, to lighten the mood. “E = MC scared!” he endeavored to reply, but the syllables that came to his friends’ ears were slow and slurred, uttered in a hoarse voice so unlike his own. While Thomas tried to catch his breath and recover the energy lost just from emitting that simple phrase, he faintly heard someone whisper, “Dysarthria.”

Puzzled, he thought to himself, _“Logan would define that for me in a heartbeat...”_

His lips turned upwards, picturing the bespectacled personification of his logic whom he’d just referenced...but even the mere act of contemplation was surprisingly agonizing now.

He shifted on the bed and moved his hands up to fix his hair—surely a tangled mess at this point!—only to realize that both of his arms were immobile, having been placed in casts.

“Thomas, no, you can’t do that, man. Y-Your arms...they’re...well, they’re broken, dude, remember?”

The voice faltered at the end, and as Thomas met the kind brown eyes of Terrence, the latter’s euphonious voice echoed in his head.

_“I don’t want to drive a fancy car today...”_

For the first time since he’d arrived in this stark white hospital with the blindingly bright lights and the nurses who bent over him with grave countenances, he felt his eyes fill with tears.

Thomas moved his head slightly to the right to watch a matching tear slip down Gavin’s face. The child he’d watched grow up with pride, the child in whom he had instilled as many life lessons as possible (but who always managed to teach Thomas himself something new every day)...the child he’d always treated as his own. He wanted so badly to reach out to ruffle the boy’s hair, to wrap him in a hug as they sat on the couch together. “Catboy,” he managed to breathe. Gavin choked a laugh. “It’s _unwheel_ that this could’ve happened, huh?” Thomas’s heart nearly burst: even now, the boy was trying to mask his misery with lighthearted humor, a true Patton at heart. As though he understood that no amount of car puns could bring back his father figure’s blissful past, swept away in one dire instant of sirens and smoke, Gavin’s face crumpled, and he buried his head in his hands, beginning to sob uncontrollably. Joan hastened to put an arm around his shoulders, murmuring words of comfort and handing him a tissue as they walked out of the room with Talyn, turning back to look at Thomas with an encouraging smile, at their side.

“Well,” Kenny, always the ray of sunshine, interjected, “thought you might like to hear about what the fanders have been up to!”

Crushing alertness immediately returned to Thomas’s consciousness as thoughts raced through his mind faster than lightning— ** _can’t make content need to film for videos can’t tweet can’t reply they’re going to worry I promised so much what should I do I need my phone I need_** —until the heart monitor started beeping, alarming all present.

Camden hurriedly assured him, “It’s okay, they’re okay, we’ve been keeping them updated, there’s nothing to worry about, they understand,” and Davi's reassuring hand squeezed his gently.

While Thomas struggled to take deep breaths once more, Kenny (berating himself for unintentionally distressing Thomas) continued, “So many artists have made some fantastic creations...Ashley and Taty have worked together on their longest edit ever, it’s beautiful...an amazing video project was organized...oh, and Hum started #GetWellSoonThomas—it’s been trending for days...a multitude of songs have been composed for you—you should hear the harmonies when your head’s feeling better...”

Kenny’s voice slowly faded as Thomas, no longer able to focus no matter his desire to do so, let his eyes flutter shut, wondering when the searing pain in his ribs would ease, when the gashes in his arms would disappear, when his bandaged head would cease to feel heavier than lead.

It seemed that they’d noticed that he was no longer able to pay attention when ever-understanding Dedi softly inquired, “Would you rather we stay quiet?”

Thomas shook his head nearly imperceptibly, pleading, “Please...sing...”

“Sing?” asked Jamahl surprisedly, exchanging a glance with Leo and Valerie, who were nodding at Thomas with understanding in their eyes.

As Jamahl strummed on his guitar, they began “Seasons of Love,” knowing that Thomas had loved it best when they all sang together, remembering the smiles shared as they met each other’s eyes, standing together as one on the stage, clapping joyously to the beat. Still, it wasn’t long before their strong voices faltered, and gradually, the melody started to taper off, replaced by sobs and tears that poured down their faces just as the unceasing drops of rain poured down the windowpane.

* * *

Thomas’s room was quiet, save for the pitter-patter of the unceasing rainfall. It was late in the day, and the doctors had shooed everyone out, having convinced them that Thomas needed rest with the assurance that they could return the next morning. 

Yet, ironically, it was he who could not rest, for how could Thomas feel any desire to return to the petrifying darkness of his mind, full of the melancholy wailing of an ambulance and blurry figures and tears? Nevertheless, it seemed the more he endeavored to push those imaginings far, far away, the more they overwhelmed his musings.

A few hours after his friends had reluctantly waved their goodbyes, a young nurse came in to change his dressings, and as his exhausted hazel eyes met her vibrant blue ones, she smiled bravely to greet him while her own brimmed over with tears. “Mr. Sanders...” Thomas blinked slowly by way of answer, too weak to form words. She opened her mouth again as if she were going to continue but soon closed it with a sigh, instead giving his non-bandaged hand a comforting pat. After she’d finished, she turned to leave with another kind smile, but Thomas caught her fervent whisper as she exited, “Thank you for your videos. I wouldn’t have become a nurse without you.” Taken aback, his head swiveled toward the closing door, only resulting in overwhelming dizziness and a stabbing pain from his already unbearable headache. 

If things were different, he would be excitedly asking the nurse questions, giving her the biggest of hugs, smiling and laughing and taking pictures...if things were different, he’d retweet the video she’d tagged him on and spend the evening marveling at how his content could change lives and cry a few happy tears when no one could see...if things were different, he wouldn’t be in this gosh darn bed, grimacing at the agonizing soreness that ravaged his entire body.

**Author's Note:**

> Now THAT was painful...but what do you think thus far? Please leave me your thoughts and critiques in the comments, I truly value all of your feedback! Chapter 2 is in the works (I'm anticipating a 5-chapter or so final fic), so be on the lookout for that! Thank you for reading :)


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